


"The Difference Between Real Christmas Trees and Artificial Ones" or "Delicious is the Color of a Cherry Slurpee"

by MistyBeethoven



Series: "Yes, I Really Am This Pathetic!" or "How to Say I Love You With a Story" [83]
Category: Swedish Dicks (TV)
Genre: 7-Eleven, Anniversary Special, Assassins & Hitmen, BBW, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Music, Christmas Party, Christmas Presents, Christmas Special, Christmas Tree, Cunnilingus, Detectives, Doggy Style, F/M, First Kiss, Handcuffed Together, Handcuffs, Hostage Situations, Kidnapping, Kissing, Loss of Virginity, Love, Love Stories, Missionary Position, Mistletoe, Oral Sex, Overweight, Police, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert, Surprise Kissing, Virginity, Weight Issues, slurpees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:27:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28223862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyBeethoven/pseuds/MistyBeethoven
Summary: Admiring a handsome cop outside of a 7-Eleven, shortly before Christmas, I am surprised when the man turns out to be a fugitive hitman named Tex Johnson. When he takes me hostage, though, I find my shock steadily growing as Johnson brings me to a Christmas party thrown by a former friend and colleague.However, my astonishment reaches its zenith when Tex and I find ourselves becoming attracted to each other and have to deal with Sun, whom still believes that Tex Johnson is someone whom uses people and then throws them away.Sleeping together Christmas Eve night, though, that first part doesn't sound quite so bad...*This marks my anniversary entry to this series. Like the Bill & Ted entry "The Things We Do for Love" the first chapter is not completely adult, while the second is For Adults Only.
Relationships: Axel Kruse & Ingmar Andersson, Axel Kruse & Me, Axel Kruse/Sun, Ingmar Andersson & Me, Ingmar Andersson & Sun, Sun & Me, Tex Johnson & Axel Kruse, Tex Johnson & Ingmar Andersson, Tex Johnson & Sun, Tex Johnson/Me
Series: "Yes, I Really Am This Pathetic!" or "How to Say I Love You With a Story" [83]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589944
Comments: 11
Kudos: 4





	1. The Difference between Real Christmas Trees and Artificial Ones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tex Johnson kidnaps me and brings me to the Swedish Dicks' Christmas party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! It's the official anniversary of this series! Well, okay that could easily be the "Something's Gotta Give" entry. But the Tex Johnson story is where I mustered up the courage to actually write a story featuring a Keanu character and myself.
> 
> It's been a year! And what a year. :/ These stories have been one of its bright spots in my life and it looks like that will only continue as the province where I live (and where once Keanu called home too) is placed in shutdown! :O I'm in a green zone too! It's like we did well here but are still getting punished! The good children are getting detention along with the delinquents. :(
> 
> But I have these stories to keep me warm and there are more to come. I'm planning a special retrospective entry on it too. Which may be overdoing it, but it will list my thoughts on each entry and which ones were my favorites and what's potentially to come! 
> 
> I'm glad to finally give Tex a real story. I love that character and Keanu's portrayal of him: a John Wick with little conscience at the beginning. My first story for him was so raw. This makes up for it and includes many of the other characters. But help me! I can't remember whom Sun said the tree belonged to! I said grandfather here but am not sure! Help would be appreciated.
> 
> Special thanks to EdgelordinBlack for reminding me months back of the most likely connection between sax work and kissing! :D <3

There were three of us standing outside of the 7-Eleven when the group of police cars came towards us, their alarms blaring and almost very fitting on this Christmas Eve night, being red and all. I, a big girl with long curly brown auburn tresses and a bad case of shyness, had an extra large Cherry Slurpee in my hand and was trying to steal glances at the attractive cop to my side. He was tall, middle aged and had long black hair and a beard. His own eyes, dark and small, however, were busily checking out the busty, heavily made up and super thin blonde, whom probably was either a model or a porn star, to his left instead of the average height, average looking chubby woman to his right.

 _"Dear Santa,"_ I had sent out a mental letter to the big guy up at the North Pole, _"If it isn't too much to ask, could you maybe, just possibly, have him choose me? You know, if he ever gets round to noticing me at all?"_

That was when the sirens started and the long line of holsteins showed up. When they pulled up outside of the convenience store, the good looking cop looked so calm, cool and collected that I thought he really, truly _was_ one of them.

However, when the car doors opened and the emerging cops aimed their guns on him, I thought that apparently the LAPD really _was_ tightening down on their conduct regulations and even looking in lusty admiration at a hot chick could now get an officer in serious trouble.

After the year, it kind of made sense.

Then they started to announce over the bullhorn, "TEX JOHNSON! YOU ARE UNDER ARREST FOR THE MURDER OF SEVERAL PEOPLE DURING YOUR CAREER AS AN ASSASSIN, FOR VARIOUS ACTS OF ASSAULT, FOR PERFORMING STUNTS WITHOUT THE PROPER LICENSES, FOR PLAYING FUNK MUSIC TOO LOUD, FOR KNOCKING YOUR POLICE ESCORTS OUT AND STEALING THEIR CLOTHES, THE SUBSEQUENT THEFT OF A POLICE CRUISER AND EVADING ARREST!"

Both the blonde and myself looked at the phony cop. The phony cop looked at both of us too. And then I got my wish. He slid behind me, wrapping an arm around my chubby waist and choosing me instead of the more attractive woman to his left.

Unfortuantely it was not for from the reason I had hoped.

"YOU FORGOT THAT I STOLE THE PIG'S HEAT TOO!" Tex Johnson shouted out in an almost friendly manner while grabbed a gun out of his pocket and placed it against my head.

I dropped the Slurpee out of my hands and it hit my old pair of sneakers, spilling over and running towards Johnson's own shining black shoes. Some of the cops swore, the 7-Eleven owner came out to see what was going on and then quickly rushed back inside, while the blonde did her best to run off into the arms of the best looking guy on the police force. I, on the other hand, was still in the arms of the best looking man on the whole block. That he also had a gun to my head was really only a minor quibble.

"HAND OVER THE HOSTAGE, JOHNSON!"

"LIKE I'D DO THAT!" the villian cried back and really did make a point.

My kidnapper then backed away towards where his police cruiser was.

"Please let me go!" I begged.

"Sorry," Tex stated, looking down into my pleading face. "You're my levarge, Miss Slurpee."

The policeman impersonator opened the driver's seat door and shoved me inside. Instantly I made for the passenger door, only to feel something clamp down on my ankle. Roughly pulled back, I saw that my abductor had placed a handcuff on it and watched in horror while he did the same with his own ankle before he brought his foot to the pedals, gripped the wheel and backed that sucker up faster than a rock star could go through groupies after a concert.

What followed was a high speed pursuit which would have been the envy of any seventies police drama or Smokey and the Bandit film. I watched as Tex Johnson avoided police car after police car, effortlessly, leaving several crashed behind him and managing to get away with hardly a dent in the car that wasn't his.

"Where did you learn to drive like that?" I asked in shocked awe.

He turned to look at me. "I was a big time Hollywood stunt driver for a while. When I wasn't murdering people for pay that is," he informed with a smile.

I realized that my legs were embarrassingly spread wide as we drove, my black skirt hitching up waaaaay past the knees. To make things worse, I'd decided to be Christmassy this year and had worn a pair of frilly red lace underwear. I could see them a bit and felt like a cheap, desperate nymphomaniac at Christmas looking for a donation.

I saw Tex looking down at them too and turned a deeper shade of red, before trying my best to lower the skirt.

"They're the same color as that drink you spilled all over my shoes," he remarked, raising his eyes now that the view was less interesting.

"I like Slurpees," I pouted.

"I do too. Just not all over my shoes," he stated.

I looked down at both of ours now, placed side by side. His just looked slightly sullied while my white ones had been stained mostly red.

"Delicious is the color of a Cherry Slurpee," I waxed philosophical before I exhaled sadly.

"I prefer Blue Raspberry," Tex commented.

I considered this for a second. "I love that flavor too. And the color is really beautiful...but I'd never associate the color blue with _delicious_. Usually when your food turns that shade, it's time to throw it out."

"Blueberries are blue," Tex countered, turning to look at me.

I shook my head, "They always seem a little more purple to me. Whomever named them was being lenient in their description."

"Damnit, I was hoping you wouldn't have noticed." My kidnapper turned to look out at the street. "Am I seriously discussing food coloring with a hostage?"

I stared out at the same street and remembered his other option. "Do you think you could have had this type of conversation with the blonde? She looked like the last time she ever had a Slurpee was when she was in grade school. Which actually was probably only a few years ago."

Remembering how I had seen him looking the woman over like she was his favorite book, I turned to Tex and asked, "Why did you choose me and not her anyway?"

"Simple," Tex Johnson said with a half tilt of his head in my direction. "You were much bigger than she was." Just when my hopes were rising that the man might be a secret fat admirer, he went and spoiled it all by adding, "It lessened the chance that the cops might be able to shoot past and hit me."

I sighed, thinking Santa had an awfully sick sense of humor. All I said was, "You're right. The biggest part on her was her breasts and those weren't real."

"They weren't?" Tex asked in disappointment.

"No," I said. "If the boobs are that big and high, while the waist could fit a bracelet around it, you can pretty well bet that they're fake and the chances only increase in this city. If you'd taken her odds are they would have chanced it, reasoning that, even if they did graze a boob, they could have just bought her another one."

"I'm glad I chose you then," Tex said with a large grin that seemed completely nuts but at the same time retained all of his indescribable and inexplicable charm.

I looked down at my large but not high breasts and my round unskinny tummy and sighed. "Yeah, me too," I said, confessing the sad yet honest truth.

* * *

When Tex eventually pulled the cruiser into the empty garage of a house, I wasn't sure what was going to happen. He climbed out of the vehicle, forcing me to join him and then we both walked around to the trunk, where he retrieved a bag and quickly rifled through it

"So, is this your place?" I asked, folding my arms over my chest and looking around.

"Nope," he replied. "Whoever lives here is away for Christmas."

"How can you tell?" I asked, feeling like a neverending string of questions.

"All the signs: Mail piled up in the box, papers on the doorstep, no decorations," he said beginning to undress right infront of me.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" I added another query to my repertory and looked away.

"I'm going to a Christmas party thrown by an old friend and colleague," he replied. "Nothing kills a Christmas party like a cop showing up, so I'm changing into something more appropriate "

 _"Thanks Santa, I hate parties,"_ I thought silently and then stated out loud, "I guess I'm being brought along..."

"Yeah, you're kind of my insurance, Slurpee. Don't worry though," Tex comforted, "They aren't killers."

"They aren't?" I asked, opening my eyes to find him having changed into a dark blue jacket and a pair of old denim jeans.

"No," he said with another big smile, putting the trunk hood down forcefully. "They're _dicks_."

* * *

We walked to a house and heard music greeting us and Tex said under his breath something that sounded like: "The damn kid never could DJ to my liking."

"That's Agnetha Faltskog," I stated, recognizing it as her Swedish rendition of "Jingle Bells."

Tex looked at me and frowned. "I prefer funk music."

"Like the New Kids on the Block's 'Have a Funky Funky Christmas?'" I teased.

He looked about ready to shoot me until I told him I was only joking. "You'd prefer 'Backdoor Santa,'" I quickly saved myself.

Tex perked right back up. "Yeah, that's more like it."

At the front door, Tex rapped on it until a short, blank faced, yet pretty, Asian woman appeared.

"Hello Sun," Tex started and I thought I noticed a bead of sweat appear on his forehead and a nervousness enter his eyes. "I came..."

She quickly slammed the door on his face.

"Ex lover?" I inquired.

"Surprisingly not this time," the wanted felon replied before knocking again but did not offer any more information.

This time someone else opened the door, a blond, small and elfishly cute man whom broke out into a large smile when he saw Tex Johnson standing there. "OH TEX!" he said in a very pronounced accent. "You came! Ingmar will be so happy!"

The elfish man's eyes fell on me and he looked slightly confused. "And your _date_?"

"Yeah, I guess, you could call her that, Axel" Tex said, stepping inside and keeping me with him.

Soon after, a taller man in his late fifties appeared, with puppy dog eyes, long scraggly graying hair and a big moustache. He looked at Tex Johnson, obviously grateful to see him but afraid at the same time. "Tex Johnson...so you did come to my Christmas party, after all. I wasn't sure you'd get the invitation. " This man had a strong Swedish accent also and I liked him as much as the other two people I had just met, although the first had frightened me a little, just like she had my kidnapper.

"I have my ways. I wouldn't miss it for the world, Ingmar," Tex said, hugging his friend heartily, an event I witnessed upclose because we were joined at the ankle.

Due to my awkward closeness, Ingmar noticed me finally.

"And this is...?" he asked looking as taken aback as Axel (whom had joined Sun in standing by the larger Swede's side) had been.

"This is my date..." Tex said and paused, his brow furrowing in confusion. "I'm sorry," Tex said, peering down at me. "I don't know your name now, do I?"

"Erin," I answered.

"Erin," he repeated, smiling wistfully as if it amused him somehow.

"You invited some girl and you didn't even know her name?" Axel stated perplexed.

"Not exactly," Tex replied. "You see, I took her hostage outside of a 7-Eleven and now we're cuffed at the ankles together."

All three people looked down at our legs and the cuffs linking us..

Ingmar looked up at his friend and my kidnapper in disgust. "You brought your kidnap victim to our Christmas party," he accused in disappointment. "You haven't changed, have you? Same old Texas Johnson."

That was when I started to smile, "Texas Johnson...Swedish Dicks..." I said, finally getting it.

The assassin looked down at me grinning happily, "Yeah and I brought a girl essentially called Ireland with me. We'd be set if only your last name had something to do with a..."

"Nevermind that," Ingmar interrupted just in time. "I had hoped that you would have _learned_ something after all we had been through..." the man said, returning to the emotional turmoil he had been facing before. "But bringing this poor woman here on Christmas Eve..."

"It's okay," I said, suddenly feeling bad for both men and wanting to help them feel better. "I had nothing else to do this evening."

"You honestly don't mind?" Tex stated, looking down at me, a strange look in his eyes. "Even knowing what I am?"

"Like I said," I shrugged. "I don't have anything else to do."

We were still staring at one another when we suddenly heard a very loud and sharp "NO!" making everyone jump about a foot in the air.

We turned to see Sun fuming stonily. Very stonily. "This is not good!" she snapped. "Here we have a girl with no boundaries. There we have a man whom heeds none. This is a bad, very bad and dangerous match!"

Tex glared down at her anxiously. "You aren't going to tell me another story about a tree are you?"

"That was my grandfather's tree!"

"No it wasn't," Tex said. "It was the Giving Tree."

"Hey! I got that on a Buzzfeed 'Which Childrens Book Character Are You?' quiz once," I piped up.

"See!" Sun stated, pointing at me. "Soon she will be chopping off her limbs to please you!"

"It's Christmas Time," I told her "They all get put away in a box for next year anyway."

"No," Tex contradicted, still staring at me. "Those are artificial trees, like the tree I left at the 7-Eleven. You're better: your _natural_."

I looked up at him blushing and we held each other's gaze.

"What are you both talking about?" Sun stated angrily. "Get back on track! I am calling the police."

"You do and I'll tell them that this is my boyfriend, Benny, whom just looks like Tex Johnson," I retaliated.

The woman turned and threw bullets at me with her eyes. She came to within an inch of my face and asked, "What about the cuffs?"

"I'll tell them we got kinky," I countered without blinking. "But forgot where the keys were."

Sun continued to stare until she suddenly blinked. "Damnit. Why do the people in L.A. have to be kinky and stupid?" she fumed before backing away.

I smiled at Tex, whom still looked odd and uncomfortable.

Meanwhile, Sun continued to glare at us, plotting her next step in silence...

* * *

Minutes later, Ingmar seemed to be appeased, even if Sun had not been. It was much easier to welcome your friend back when the hostage he had taken was complicit in her abduction. I listened to them talking for a bit and drank some egg nog before I realized one glass had enough rum in it to make Santa's workforce drunk. The two former stuntmen had some interesting stories to reminisce about and I enjoyed them until I found myself getting rather jealous as they turned dirtier in nature while they progressed.

In either wry commentary on it, or a mere coincidence, Axel began to play Glen Campbell's version of "Blue Christmas."

Then the DJ himself walked up and asked me to dance with him.

Tex frowned. "You can't be serious," he commented. "We're still cuffed together."

"I am," Axel confirmed.

"Good," Sun stated, stepping in front of Tex. "I will dance with you, Mr. Johnson. We have things to discuss."

Somehow the two employees of Swedish Dicks managed to pull us to the bare spot cleared in the living room and turn us around; we proceeded to dance with them while our backs were to each other, still joined restrictingly at the ankle.

"That Tex really is something," Axel stated, beginning to slow dance.

"Yes," I replied, feeling the man in question's bum _bum_ ping into me on occassion as my own big one _bum_ ped him right back.

"You know, I am only here right now because of him?" the blond stated. "I was going to be deported but Tex got me my greencard."

"He did?" I said in shock.

Axel nodded violently. "Yes. I think he knew that Ingmar needed me. After Tex had faked his death, Ingmar was desolate. I gave him back hope."

"No, you gave me a headache," Ingmar said flatly as he passed us on his way to the record player.

Axel looked at me sheepishly. "He meant _hope_."

"I'm sure," I lied.

Suddenly the song ended and one with some funk took its place. "Santa Claus Needs Some Loving," came on and I felt Tex relaxing behind me while Axel looked shocked. "I didn't set that," the DJ said, turning around to look over his shoulder.

Tex Johnson slipped around, escaping Sun to push my dance partner away and take his place. "Sorry Ax," the hitman apologized. "I'm cutting in."

"Interesting choice of words: cut," the abandoned Sun remarked. "Like what one does with a tree..."

Seeing Axel's pout, however, she decided to offer some holiday charity, however. "You, dance with me, Elf," Sun barked, grabbing his hands and leading him across the floor in a jerky tango.

My hands were soon grasped in Tex's big ones; I sensed their strength and felt excited and nervous by how close his body was as we started to dance together.

"There," Tex grunted in his rough voice. "That feels better, _smoother_."

As Ingmar was walking back, I thought I caught him give his friend a wink and I felt a part of some grand conspiracy all of a sudden.

My eyes met my partner's and I knew he could see my blush but didn't really care.

"How'd the conversation go with Sun?" I asked, trying to make small talk to help ease my nerves.

Tex's own looked frayed after the encounter. "It was a lecture really. She's afraid I'll hurt you or Ingmar. I met softer wardens than her in prison."

Remembering I was a dancing with a convict, I felt hopelessly clumsy in the arms of a man graceful enough to get paid to murder people. The thought made me sad. Liking Johnson, I remembered Axel's words. "Did you really get Axel his greencard?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I cared," he said and then quickly added. "I hate doing that. But after I died, and was brought back by the funk, it just kind of happened." He saw my shocked expression. "What? You don't believe that I changed or that I came back from the dead? You don't think that's possible?"

"I do actually" I said and placed my head on his chest. "I wouldn't believe in Christmas if I couldn't believe in redemption and resurrection. Jesus was the seed."

We danced in silence to a soulful beat.

"Did you really mean that you are glad to be here?" he asked, finally returning to speech.

"Yes," I answered, holding him tighter. "There's no other place that I'd rather be."

The song began to feature a sax solo and Tex Johnson moved me across the floor more vigorously. "I play the sax," he commented.

"You do?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "But then again I'm also a very good kisser."

"I'll have to take your word for it," I whispered, nuzzling my cheek against where his heart lay.

"Why?" Tex said, stopping abruptly. "Look up, Slurpee."

I raised my eyes to see a green plant with white berries hanging above us. Tex Johnson had danced me under the mistletoe. Scared again but still excited, I lowered my gaze to meet my partner's eyes and watched helplessly while Tex Johnson lowered his head to kiss me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Keanu;
> 
> It's our anniversary! Kind of anyway. So, happy anniversary from this crazy writer whom loves you very much and hopes that I can sometimes amuse/entertain you as much as you've brightened up my life and helped me.*hugs*
> 
> My itinerary for this week includes finishing this next, doing a Freaked Holiday story and finishing Across the Fiery Desert. Then maybe a "Moving Day" story on Boxing Day. Get it?
> 
> You know, I didn't realize the joke about Tex's name before? I can be a little naive sometimes. And innocent. Innocent I enjoy being. With a naughty streak.
> 
> On a somber note, a woman whom is very sweet and kind in my area is fighting cancer and needs an operation. Her name is Janet and I was wondering if you wouldn't mind saying a prayer for her? She has melonoma on the brain. The chance of survival and recovery is high at 98% but her daughter is scared as are Tara and I. So, could you send a prayer and good vibes her way.
> 
> You know, I take COVID19 serious, I wash my hands, don't touch my face etc...but I keep it in its proper perspective. I don't panic over it. Cancer scares me more. A friend was saying to me, but what if your mom or your grandfather died of COVID...but I wanted to remind her that they had already died and it was from cancer not COVID. It wasn't suddenly erased when COVID came along. And, this friend, lost sixty pounds and she's strong and brave and she wanted to see her relatives this Christmas but she can't and that's hell.
> 
> Speaking of which, I wish you could have Peter Stormare say a prayer too. I read that he talks to God and that his mother was a medium. It always makes me smile because often these actors whom play devils and demons etc... really well always turn out to be the opposite in real life. They are really spiritual. So, I wish that Peter could pray too because he seems strong in his faith.
> 
> A song Stormare's nephew wrote once actually helped me through a spiritual crisis. It was Magic by Sounds of Arrows and the lyrics made me feel better.
> 
> Speaking of that, I watched the film The Polar Express tonight. I can't say I don't find the animation, well, kind of creepy, but the story speaks to me. A few years ago, I had that crisis of faith and I felt so much like the hero boy in that film. Wanting to believe but so filled with doubt. 
> 
> But everytime the doubt was too much, something would happen that would help me to believe again. I know about doubt and I know about faith and I have spent a lot of time in that gray area in between. The scenes that I love in that film are the hero boy's with the hobo and the bell. I like art that features faith confronted by doubt and doubt confronted by faith. 
> 
> Graham Greene once said they were the same really, each possessing moments of surety and uncertainess so as a believer he did not look at an unbeliever any differently than himself.
> 
> I've always been a believer other than those torturous moments when I doubted. But I always feel like in those times God scoops me up again and places me back safely into His hand so I don't slip through His fingers. I think, though, that the most interesting stories are about those whom reach Him not in a straight path but one that zig zags like a zipper. A zig zagging line has more character really. That kind of running away and then being pulled towards again makes a more complicated and visually pleasing story of faith. Just like a story that was all pleasure without pain would probably be pretty boring. I love stories like "The Hound of Heaven" and "The End of the Affair."
> 
> But getting back on topic (my thoughts certainly zig zag, themselves, don't they?) for all my doubt, I still believe, or hear the bell, as the allegory says in the film. 
> 
> I hope you'd hear it with me.
> 
> You know what else I hope? I hope one day you'd g6elp me make a snowman and make snow angels (and if I had the body and nerve for it, I'd do one completely naked for you) and that you'd still teach me how to skate one day. 
> 
> A million Christmas wishes... 
> 
> And that's why I started this series too: to get to do a milion different things with the various forms of you. 
> 
> And maybe one day we will get to do those things, like Jupiter and Saturn conjuncting yesterday. I'll keep believing that too. It just might take a few hundred years but what is a few hundred years anyway? Tell me Keanu...do you have a couple of centuries to wait for me? ;D <3
> 
> Much love,  
> Erin  
> XO XO  
> :D <3


	2. Delicious is the Color of a Cherry Slurpee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tex Johnson and I find ourselves both on the naughty list as we spend Christmas together.

Tex Johnson kissed me and I felt suddenly dizzy and happy. His lips were strong, confident and wonderful, sending a feeling of arousal and contentment all throughout my body. _"Just a pair of lips can do that to my whole body?"_ I thought to myself, my hands slinking around to his back.

His hands were going to my butt and suddenly I felt very wet.

But not in a good way.

Something wet and smelling of punch rained down on the kissing assasin and myself and we both parted in time to see Sun standing before us with a now empty punch bowl in her hands.

"Sorry. It spilled," she apologized.

We looked to each other and then back to her and then once more at one another. Tex used the back of his sleeve to wipe his mouth off. "Definitely not a Cherry Slurpee," he remarked before using his other dry sleeve to try to wipe off my face.

"NO!" Sun shouted again, perhaps noticing the way that my eyes lit up as the notorious and charismatic criminal performed the chivalrous act of cleaning me off. "This is still not good!"

"What isn't?" Axel asked, coming to the cranky woman's side.

"This!" she said, pointing at us, her new favorite pasttime. "It is happening again! He deceptively turns it to his advantage? I am the only other woman here, and he does not stand a chance with me, so he moves on to the low hanging fruit: her!"

I frowned, not thrilled to be called low hanging fruit.

"She _is_ his date," Axel argued.

"BECAUSE SHE IS _CUFFED_ TO HIM!" the woman raised her voice in annoyance.

Their little argument was momentarily interrupted by the appearance of Ingmar holding a couple of towels. "Here," he said handing one to Tex and one to me. "Dry yourselves off. I might have some dry clothing that would fit you. Use the bathroom to get changed."

"Am I the only one who remembers THEY ARE CUFFED!" Sun said in reminder. 

Tex began to look me over. "Yes, we are," he said, obviously happy by this fact.

"Tex will be a gentleman and close his eyes," Axel said, defending the man whom had gotten him a greencard but stolen his dance partner away.

"He is _not_ a gentleman; he is a snake," Sun argued.

Axel only ignored her asking my kidnapper instead, "Won't you, Tex?"

"Of course," Johnson stated. "Just like I told Robert Donati before I stabbed him, 'You can trust me.'"

Axel took his words without seeing the irony, Sun slapped her forehead and Ingmar shook his head. Meanwhile, Tex turned to look down at me without a glimmer of remorse or that he intended to keep his eyes to himself.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, after much debating, Tex and I were in the bathroom getting changed, our backs to each other.

"Are you sure you aren't looking?" I asked.

"If you are that worried about it, Slurpee," Tex stated, "You should have let one of the others come in here to chaperone."

I shook my head. I'd be in the same predicament then and the truth was that if anybody was going to steal a peek at me, I wanted it to be Tex Johnson.

"You wouldn't want to see me anyway," I commented, my arms in the t-shirt Ingmar had given me, one featuring a faded Deep Purple logo, but not fully on and over my head. "You know in real life how artifical trees never look as good as natural trees?"

"Yeah."

"Well it doesn't transfer to people," I sighed. "I'm afraid that...that artificial people like that girl outside of the 7-Eleven look better than I ever could. Nose is too big fix it...lips or breasts are too small, get them larger. When they sag, lift them. I...I do believe it's all fake so in the end it isn't worth anything. If you want to give a compliment you should send it to their plastic surgeon really, so I don't do it. But people...people like you, Tex...they see with their eyes. And you'll always prefer the image over the content."

Johnson was silent, zipping up the fly to a pair of blue denim jeans, lightened with age, and I felt a tear falling down my cheek before he answered. "I've spent my life being real and being fake. Fake was the stunt driver; real was being the assassin. Real always _felt_ better. There were no lies then. No people hurt like poor Ingmar. So, be _real_ , Erin."

"Thank you," I said with a small smile I was sure he couldn't see.

"See...that's a real smile and it's beautiful," Tex commented.

"WHAT?!?" I exclaimed in shock.

"Sorry Erin," Johnson apologized. "Look in front of you and over to the left."

I looked up to finally intake the mirror hanging there, one that would have shown Tex Johnson everything with a few careful glances here and there. He'd probably taken note of it the first second we'd stepped into the bathroom and positioned me right where he wanted me to be while I'd been too nervous to see.

I turned around in outrage, suprising the hitman. We fell onto the bathroom tiles together, me fully dressed and Tex only in his jeans. It was apparent now what had been preventing him from putting on his clothes faster.

"Why you dirty..." I was saying, hitting him lightly on his quite attractive chest.

"I liked what I saw, if it's any consolation," he said, grabbing my hands by the wrist.

"You did?" I said, stopping my struggle to free myself.

"Yeah. I like that your bra matches your panties...Cherry Red Slurpee," he stated in a raspy growl and gave a little thrust upward, reminding me of what I was then straddling in the pair of sweatpants Ingmar had given me. That bulge felt nice against my crotch and I squirmed in embarrassment, making it brush against me all the more.

"Do you like that too?" he asked.

I nodded, feeling heated all over from my head to my toes and I wriggled some more.

"You want to try that out for size, cowgirl," Tex Johnson said, adopting a country accent while letting me go to reach for my ass.

I moaned, not sure of what to do. I was a virgin and had no experience with this kind of situation, especially not with a charming and highly skilled hitman.

"As an assassin, I can tell you every gun has just the right holster to fit it..." his left had was letting go of my ass and beginning to lower the joggers and I was helplessly letting him, desperately wanting to feel Tex's gun inside of me.

Then the door flew open, robbing me of the chance.

Sun stood there, glaring at us. "Good you on top, bad who you're on top of," she commented like a wise sage atop of a mountain.

"We fell," Tex lied.

"With your hand on her ass?" the woman said unconvinced."

Regrettably, I felt Johnson removing it quickly.

"Better," Sun said. "Not best. Get off of him, finish getting changed and then come out for toast."

"Ingmar's serving toast at a Christmas party?" I asked incredulously.

"No! _Toast_!" Sun said in exasperation. "That stupid thing people do before drinking."

"Oh, okay," Tex said.

We scrambled to our feet, Tex then hastily finishing putting on a white shirt striped with beige and blue. On the way out the door, he grabbed me. "You'll still get your slice of Texas toast, Slurpee," Tex whispered into my ear.

It was a vow. Having spent his life marking targets and taking them down, I was the next on his list. I wanted it badly, would surrender myself only to him, but I didn't want to turn out to be just like his saxophone: something that he was merely playing.

I wanted to distance myself from him, to protect myself then but locked together at the ankle, this was kind of hard to do.

So, I just continued walking, hoping Santa would not have given me a defective Christmas gift.

* * *

"I want to thank everyone for being here today," Ingmar Andersson said, his glass raised high. "I'm sorry that my daughter could not be but that's how it goes sometimes. And in Sweden we have a saying: Be grateful for what you have, not what you don't. And what I have is the best."

Everyone looked truly touched, even Tex, except for Sun whose expression was unimpressed as always. When she spoke, her feelings were quite clear. "In China we have a saying too," Sun said, "The quicker you finish the toast, the more our arms won't hurt in the morning."

Getting the hint, Ingmar said something in Swedish which sounded like, "Skoal," nodded at Axel to his right and Sun to his right while Tex went ahead and clinked my glass against his. We all took a drink of our very rummy nog and I glanced at the mistletoe hanging in the background and then the natural tree behind our guest. While it was not full in places and its branches drooped here and there, it was still beautiful for being real.

* * *

It was the first hour of Christmas Day when Ingmar decided to call it a night, stating that he trusted everyone enough to decide when they wanted to take themselves home.

"Can I crash at your place tonight?" Tex suddenly asked the retiring dick. " I don't have anywhere else to stay."

"Sure, make yourself at home," the ex-stuntman replied, walking towards his bedroom. "I have a spare room to the left of the hall."

"You won't take her with you," Sun stated, getting into Tex's face again and tilting her head at me.

"Well since I don't have the key she's coming with me," Johnson retaliated, looking like he was suddenly getting a backbone, while, I was left wondering if he actually had another bone in mind...

"I must cut off your leg then," Sun stated, pulling out a sharp looking knife from the back of her pants.

"Limb cutting is for trees," my kidnapper countered. "I was never the tree in your pilfered little analogy,"

Tex Johnson began to push me towards the guest room. He still proceeded to lead me there even as a knife flew past his head and hit the wall.

"Warning shot?" I heard Axel asking the woman behind us.

"No! I just have bad aim!" Sun bemoaned grumpily.

* * *

Inside of the guest room, I felt incredibly nervous, rambling on as Tex sat me down on the bed. "It's not snowing...I'm used to snow...I'm from Canada....it's usually white there by now...well sometimes it's green a bit..."

Tex Johnson kissed me passionately to shut me up and I once again experienced the power of his pucker.

When he finally let me breathe again, I looked him in the eyes and spat out. "I'm a virgin."

A naughty sparkle twinkled in the hitman's eyes as he grabbed the rim of the sweatpants and pulled them lower, revealing my lace panties. "Good...A Red Cherry Slurpee...you told me they were the most delicious, after all."

As Tex tried to lower the pants past the cuffs, he had trouble, the handcuff getting in the way. "How the hell did you get in these anyway?" he asked in frustration.

I couldn't remember so I asked him the same thing.

"It's like I was just in them all of a sudden," he replied confused.

"Me too," I replied.

"Now I want you _out_ of them though," Tex Johnson stated. He studied me with the sweatpants hanging off as far as he had gotten them. "Good thing I have the key," he stated and undid the zipper of his jeans. I thought it was a euphemism until he reached into his underwear and pulled out a small silver object instead of a larger fleshy one.

"You had that on you the whole time?" I asked while Tex knelt before me and started to unlock the cuffs.

"Yeah," Tex said, looking up at me. "I just didn't want to set you free so soon, Erin."

The cuffs fell to the floor along with the sweatpants and Johnson grabbed my feet, swinging them onto the bed with him situated suddenly between them."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied, his hands crawling up my legs and reaching for my red panties.

"Why?" I asked, feeling my clit swelling as the man began to remove them, his cock starting to rise and strain his own underwear, now visible through his open fly.

"Because maybe I was looking at you all along outside of that 7-Eleven but bad boys don't deserve good girls. So, we take what we think we do deserve. But today being Christmas, well, I think it's time for a change..."

I didn't feel like such a very good girl then, the air hitting my clit, which was peeking from my folds, all excited as I creamed below it and onto my guest's bedsheets. Tex looked at it in appreciation, lowered his head to where the nub lay and gave it a kiss. I made a strange little squeal and provoked his tongue to dip lower to taste the fluid pooling out from me.

More sounds came from me, a gasp in particular, as his tongue went up my virgin hole, deeper than I would have ever expected.

It felt so good when I knew that it shouldn't. "Don't," I groaned. "What if Santa sees?"

Tex raised his head and looked at what he had done to me, all aroused and hot lying beneath him. "Didn't you hear? Santa doesn't bring us naughty boys what we really want for Christmas, Erin," Tex stated, "So we have to take it for ourselves."

The assassin rammed his head back into my waiting crotch and I cried out in deep pleasure as his lips wrapped around my clitoris. The same power he'd shown to my lips was bestowed upon my throbbing clit and I couldn't help but turn into the musical instrument he was currently mastering, learning how to make me sound all the noises he wanted. When his tongue returned to my vagina again, I whimpered for him to stop again, feeling like if he made me come I'd be a very naughty girl too.

Tex took his head out from me again. He looked frustrated but determined in his attempt to seduce a good little girl like myself. "I get it," he said looking at my large chest. "Your other pink nubs are feeling a little left out," he growled, crawling over me and effortlessly pulling the Deep Purple shirt up and over my head until I was lying in my red lace bra under him. His gaze took in the sight of it, the pale white mounds spilling out and my nipples already hardening and visible through the thin cloth. I felt his erection pushing into my belly then, fiercer than before.

"Oh baby," he said, kissing a breast and using his left hand to toy with my right nipple.

"Tex, don't," I said. "I'm...I'm not beautiful..."

My clitoris was pounding now between my legs, like the Little Drummer Boy giving Jesus a concert but I was scared to death that Tex would still run away after seeing _all_ of me.

"I'll decide that for myself," he said, pushing my bra up and revealing my natural, and thus less than perfect breasts. Tex was true to his word, however. He stared at them lusfully, teasing my nipples and making me squirm, my clit twitching once and my vagina giving a single clench.

"Don't," I still foolishly moaned as he rubbed the nubs sensuously, coaxing them out further, first with his fingertips and then with his lips.

I once again felt like his saxophone.

But when one was being played so expertly, how could you ever find the willpower to complain?

"You want me to stop?" he asked after another long sucking on my tit.

I cried out a much different "Don't" now and Tex continued to stimulate my breasts before moving lower again. He stared at my cunt and whispered, "You're so red...just like your panties or that darn drink you were sucking on when I wished that you were sucking on me."

His face pushing into my slit, I writhed in ecstasy, Tex's hands still playing with my now fully erect nipples as he tasted on me. My leg moved, bringing my foot to his shoulder blade to caress and Tex stuck his tongue as far up my vagina as it could go, pushing me into my orgasm.

My other foot raised and rested on his shoulder while I convulsed in pure sexual bliss. All the while, my lover drank me like the drink he had nicknamed me after. The final spasm over, Tex lifted his head and studied me as my cream coated his whiskered chin. "You were right," he said raspily. "Cherry Slurpees are delicious."

He knelt before me again and I saw his cock more angry then ever. Lustily, I felt my own hunger growing. Rising to my knees, I knelt before him, my hands dipping into his underwear and pulling out something very swollen and impatient. I stroked it a few times, the first penis I had ever felt and Tex threw his head back from my touch.

"This looks red and delicious too," I said as sexily as I could manage, letting my finger caress the leaking head, slitted and looking raw and sore. "I...I think I'd like to suck on it too if you don't mind..."

Tex grabbed my neck at the back, making me feel physical pleasure again and causing me to grasp his cock tighter. "It might put you on Santa's naughty list," he warned, peering into my eyes.

I met his gaze confidently, kissed him hungrily once and then lowered my head, taking the tip of his erection into my mouth. It felt so strange on my tongue, hot and soft, smooth and pulsating. I heard him moan as I started to taste him, my tongue exploring him in my virgin combination of naivete and curiosity.

"Pump me with your hand," he taught me, and my palm began to do just that, finding the more that I kept at movement of mouth and hand more fluid would come spilling out, which I joyfully swallowed.

"That's enough," Tex said lifting me off and pulling me to him.

"I wanna taste your cum," I said breathlessly, like a woman deprived of what she desired.

He kissed me passionately, his cock pressed inbetween us, still not completely satisfied. We recognized ourselves on each other's tongues and I went back to get another helping of Tex Johnson before he stopped me again, pulling on my hair this time as I was pulled back up. "Later. I want what you got between your legs, Erin. That's my Christmas present too."

"Yes," I said, suddenly a little nervous to take him in but wanting it too. I looked at his shirt and started to shyly unbutton it. "You know, outside of that store, you were what I asked Santa for...so I can't be too bad of a girl if he gave it to me."

I raised my eyes to see Tex looking at me fondly. He brought the back of his fingers to my cheek and touched it with them. "You really are like a Slurpee," he mumbled. "You're too sweet."

I kissed him quickly again and started to finish undressing him, an act he helped with due to the impatience of his cock.

When he was kneeling before me, completely naked, I unhooked my bra to mirror his state. His arms wrapped around my middle and he lay me down on the bed, gently. My fugitive began to kiss my large breasts once more and I felt the head of the cock, probably still baring traces of my saliva, pushing in. I cried out from the feeling.

"It will probably hurt," Tex stated. "I think it's perfect for my gun...but you're still an unbroken holster. Want it done quickly to get it over with?"

I nodded and was surprised as he almost simultaneously thrusted inside. My cry was stolen as he kissed me, probably fearing that with his reputation, and if Sun was still around or Ingmar was still awake, that they would automatically think that he had hurt me.

And he had. Only in the way I had always wanted. Feeling his cock tearing me and then filling me, I bade goodbye to my virginity and relished the pain.

I told this to him wordlessly. My arms went around my lover's shoulders and his lips found my nipples, licking them each slowly before sucking on them. Tex started to slide his erection within me, knowing enough to let me get somewhat used to it. With each thrust though I felt pain being transformed into pleasure, as if Tex Johnson wasn't only a killer and stuntman but an alchemist too.

"See, he said. "Your holster was _made_ for my gun."

Suddenly I was feeling even more delight than what I had experienced via his mouth and I was responding in kind. I came again, violently but still felt my lover denying shooting his bullets off inside of me.

"Can I have you on all fours?" he asked me, licking my earlobe following the request.

"Yes," I said.

Tex slid his Johnson out from me with a wet, dirty sound and I got on my knees and hands, noting that I had joined my blood with the cream and precum on a bedsheet that was not mine. I was about to comment on it when Tex slipped inside of me again.

"OHHHHHHHH!" I cried out from the sensation, one bringing no pain now.

He took hold of my pleasure and continued to shove his cock within me, making me cry out again. Tex seemed to enjoy making me make noises I thought were impossible and I couldn't understand why a man whom took lives could cause my body to come _to_ life. My cunt was wet and dripping around his penis which suddenly spasmed and fired his rounds off into me, as he shouted out.

I was crying out his name too repeatedly, desperately while I came also, my vagina grasping like a covetous old simner on the cock, wanting all the ammunition it could offer.

We were panting loudly like the ending notes of our own symphony; I felt Tex, grab me from behind and pull us both down onto the mattress. He moved my face to his and we were kissing again until I rested my head againt the bearded chin, my cream now having dried.

"You're still on the good list, Erin," Tex Johnson said.

"I am?" I asked like a happy child.

"Yes," he confirmed and kissed my forehead. "The _very_ good list."

"Then so are you," I whispered and nuzzled against his lips.

* * *

At the kitchen table in the morning, Ingmar saw us both walking in together, unchained. "God Jul!" he greeted. "You guys want breakfast?"

"Yeah," Tex said. He hugged me from behind, kissing me on the cheek before sitting down and pulling me down to sit on his lap, ignoring the extra chair.

"I see you're free," Ingmar stated, putting down bowls full of rice pudding in front of us and two glasses of more egg nog. "From what I heard, Santa Claus was very good to you."

"Very," Tex and I said in unison, holding each other tightly.

"Good," Ingmar said as we each took a sip of the nog. "Now let me show you my present to you both."

We watched him rising from the table, shared a quizzical look between us, and then quickly followed, our glasses still in our hands.

The Swedish dick eventually led us to a closet and opened it.

Sun was lying on the floor, gagged, each of her hands cuffed to one of her feet. She was struggling and looking ready to commit murder and I realized that she had never left the party but had stayed, hoping to interrupt us again.

Until she had been interrupted herself.

"You aren't the only one with handcuffs, Tex," Andersson stated.

Ingmar, Tex and I raised our glasses to the bound woman and toasted, "SKOAL!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Keanu;
> 
> Busy day today, getting ready for Christmas and the shutdown.
> 
> I also saw on the front page of AO3 here that there might be copyright problems brewing for this site. Now, I'm just talking for myself here, this just goes for me, but I know how lucky I am to use the characters that other wonderful people have created. From Shakespeare to Mike Pondsmith, I have been blessed. 
> 
> What scares me is that these might be taken down and I won't finish the stories or get to write to you again. That is my fear, Keanu. The hope of you reading them being taken and my love letter coming to an end.
> 
> But these stories are yours. They are my gift to you. You can use anything in them and I would truly be honored. 
> 
> And you reading them and liking any of them, even just one of them, that would be your gift to me.
> 
> Much love,  
> Erin  
> XO XO  
> :D <3


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